Interesting!

A story in the UK Guardian caught my eye today. It reveals that fertility scientists are trying to increase the chance of a successful IVF procedure through more effective analysis of fertilized embryos.

Using mice in a case study, they found that “when a sperm entered an egg, the egg’s jelly-like innards would start to pulsate soon afterwards“. The team leader, Professor Magdalena Zernicka-Goetz of Cambridge University (natch!) said:

The pattern of those movements is predictive of whether the embryo will have successful developments throughout the entire pregnancy…I believe this method has very important potential medical applications, as it provides a totally non-invasive and rapid way of making this prediction of which embryo will have successful and which will not have successful pregnancy

In other words, they are hopefully onto a more effective way to identify ‘The Egg’. The professor adds that they’ll be trialling it at IVF clinics within months.

This sounds like exciting news to me. I mean, IVF will never be foolproof, and we must always be cautious about mere ‘theories’, but this really could be a significant step in increasing the odds of conception. And via pulsations, no less – it’s almost as though the baby were knocking on the door to say “Yoo hoo, I’m the one!”

You can read the full article here

What do you guys think?

New job.

Not just any new job in my profession. A TOTALLY new profession with a new job in a new building in a new town in a new school system in a new precinct in a new county.

I love it. I am not very good at my new job but I love it. I don’t know anything about anything there but I am learning it all. I sort of feel like Jane Fonda in 9 to 5 because she was pretty embarrassing with the copiers and office protocol at first.

But she had the right attitude and realized she was allowed to mess up. She realized it was more about interpersonal skills than about make a great cup of joe. Although wait, wasn’t she one who accidentally poisoned her boss with the cup of joe? Or was that Lily Tomlin? Crap.

Anyway. Heh! I should erase the above analogy referring to Fonda at her new work place but I shall leave it be.

The new job is cool. Somehow they wanted me to be hired there and saw something in me. I know it had a lot to do with my being a single mom and the feelings I had inside of me. I had the fire because I knew that my daughter needed me to get this job. She needed that for me. This economy is fragile and not being able to provide for a child is the scariest thought I have had in my life. I had the fire and I was just so determined to get this job and I think they saw that determination.

Now my daughter has a fighting chance for a normal life where she won’t see me stress from freelance job to freelance job or beg her father for the support checks. She will see her mother as an independent woman who takes the time to play and feed her and nurse her boo boos. She will remember Halloween and Birthdays and time spent just doing not so much but having fun.

I have dreamed of decorating a Christmas tree with her for so long; I have dreamed of going to soccer matches with her; I have dreamed of watching her school plays or holiday performances; I have dreamed of hanging her art work up all over our little home.

Some day we will have that little home. That’s a nice dream.

This is no ordinary job for me. It’s a life changing event and I am so grateful and so relieved it happened.

My heart races as it had every day I knew the IVF worked.  I was so appreciative every time I felt her kicks inside of me.  Sometimes we all need a little push from an external force.  Sometimes we need to go in a different direction and eschew what it is we thought we should be doing.  Sometimes we need to stop and not feel sorry that things are not working out but find that push so that it COULD work out. IVF was like that for me.  And this new career direction is, too.

It’s okay to change course because the dream and outcome is all the same now, isn’t it?  There is nothing wrong with a new mindset as long as the goal remains solid.

Yeaaaaah.

I read this little tidbit today on the internet. Here, here is the link:

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2011-07-17/ivf-lottery-slammed/2797642

A lottery for IVF.

So basically a lottery is cashing in on the desire for a child and banking on the emotions of women and men and couples and non-couples. I am speechless.

Thing is, having a child through a natural conception is private. Having a child through IVF? Even more private. At least in my experience it was. It’s an attempt of conception after so many heartbreaking moments. It’s a hopeful attempt. Hope should not be for sale.

But it is. And we pay for it. IVF costs a ton. Now, I am not going to go in to the emotional and physical attributes of IVF here. I am speaking purely in financial terms since a lottery is about the moolah. Dinero. The bank.

I don’t believe any lottery should use “hope” for exchange of a profit. Would I have attempted my fate at this lottery? Yes. Many times over.

Would I have felt duped and hurt? Yes.

Does anyone feel the same as me on this? Curious.

There is the MOST amazing carousel in a mall in Connecticut. Has anyone ever been?

Very kid friendly mall. Highchairs in the food court. Pretty freakin’ awesome and stuff one appreciates when children are in the picture. Before my lil’ one, I’d not have noticed any of it as I sat and ate something from Cinnabun.

Parents are nuts though. Ugh. The volume of disinterested parents was astounding and so many children were left unattended while their mums and dads were texting away or shopping. I didn’t like that.

But when that carousel spun, the children had no choice BUT to be strapped in with a parent in tow, on the side seat. Otherwise, the ride would have not been offered.

I smirked because for four minutes the parents were forced to behave and watch their children and they had to stop their texting. For four minutes their worlds spun and co-existed together while the rest of us on the outter perimeter watched. Time seemed to stop for them. Nothing else in life was applicable.

That was a moment I witnessed yesterday. I’d have noticed it with a different set of eyes had I not had my daughter. I’d have been a bitter, infertile woman wondering, “Some day, I will take my child here and NEVER ignore him or her. And someday, I will come here and not need a carousel to jolt me in to enjoying my child.”

And so. Yeaaah. There I would have been. And there I was again.

Infertility lends a great appreciation for what one does not have but what one WILL have in time.

No $2 admission ticket necessary.

So, I had the most invasive GYN exam today. Gah! I don’t want to go in to the details but I think most of you know exactlllllly what I am talking about.

Paper gown and all. Woo hoo!

Anyway, after my exam I walked to my car and decided to grab a hotdog at a corner hotdog cart. He was standing right next to a Mr. Softee truck. I know, I KNOW!

Treats and more treats.

What I loved about the moment was that upon further observation, the hotdog vendor was eating a vanilla cone with sprinkles whilst the Mr. Softee vendor was eating a hotdog. Could you blame either one?

And so I thought, “Wouldn’t it be grand to go through life with such a nice treat just feet away?” Both are not easy jobs to run and lord knows the public, as charming as they may be, does have its share of kooks. But isn’t it worth it to have such a moment of joy during a hot, summer (first day of summer today!) day? Where else in the world could you ever…?

So I thought about it. Isn’t career and children the same thing? I work a stressful day with the longest hours known to mankind…why? Can’t I have both? A career and time with my child? My daughter is most important to me, despite the cool career.  I am thinking of changing my path so that I could have better balance.  She deserves that.  And in a way, there is nothing wrong with having both the gift of time with her and a nice way to earn a paycheck.

It’s a hotdog and an ice cream on a sunny day amongst the millions of people in my city.

It’s a nice little treat which balances the other treat.

Do you know what I mean?

I will find my way.  We all have the ability to find our own way.

It’s exciting.

ps. I suggest anyone going through IVF and injections (and such) to GO and get a soft cone or comforting hotdog with the works. Really. It is required.

Here I am babbling on and on about myself.

For crying out loud, it’s so self centered!  I mean, really.

I don’t ever want to be famous for fifteen minutes.  I would not know what to do with myself before, during and after and would only end up chuckling nervously.  Or saying, “like”  or “you know” or worse, “uh” after every sentence.  I do that when I am nervous.

So, instead of writing about BETH KATZ, I’d like to read about you.  Who are you?  Are you interested in actually pursuing IVF?  Has it worked out for you?  What are you feeling these days?  What’s your favorite color?  Do you have a pet?

You catch my drift.  So tell me,  whatcha up to?  I am genuinely interested…

Please know that nothing compares to the joy of being a mom. I LOVE my girl. LOVE. You’ll know what I am talking about when you become a mother (or father!) some day, too.

I left my husband not so long ago. Divorce. I would have stayed were it not for the safety of my daughter. Eventually, I would have left but because there was a little child in the household, I grew balls a lot sooner.

Funny thing is? Children bring out the kid in all of us. But it brings out our courage, too. We become more fearful of the world (everything seems too sharp and pointy) but more fearless, too. Bullshit is bullshit and no longer worth the fixing. A child learns to crawl and walk…there IS no waiting for the right time.

So please, forgive my absence yet again. I am feeling like a million bucks because I did what was right and my daughter and I will thrive. But the hurt and struggles that come with a divorce is all there. It’s palpable.

But it will never ripen. After all, she and I are taking on the world. She walks and dances now. And so am I. It feels so good to dance again. And it feels even better knowing that she is the new love of my life. She is my dancing partner until the day I die…

The waiting room at my doctor’s office was like one of the worst experiences to deal with.

Seriously.

I will never forget it, not even a year and a half later.

You gals and guys know what I am talking about, don’t you?

The same faces every day (since the visits are often) and no one looks one another in the eye. Not ever. Once I got the nastiest look from a woman who was eyeballing my red clogs. I sensed she was thinking, “Gawd. Who does she think she is?” on the surface. But she REALLY was thinking was, “If SHE gets pregnant and I don’t? I will hate her forever. The bitchwiththeredclogs. Hate. HER.”

Exactly.

I suggest that a book should be in your handbag or knapsack at all times. Don’t bring a magazine. People will think you swiped it from the seating area.

Sometimes the wait will grate on your nerves because not only are you pressed for time or anxious to get things started but the stares and comparisons are uncomfortable. Raise your head, chin up and read your book. Read it well.

Really. It helps.

When your name is called, save the page and look past everyone else and smile. Think of a field of freesias and how pretty a bundle will look in your home, after the baby is born. A nice little treat for yourself. They prettiest scent in the world, too.

Walk past the nasties. Walk past the naysayers. Walk past the wall with the huge assemblage of baby photos sent in by grateful ex-patients…

…and you march in to the room where the stirrups have your name written on them.

No one else matters.

I took ten minutes out of my day today and just stared in the mirror.

Ever do that? I have not done it for quite some time.

I studied my eye lashes and my iris in my eyes. I studied my nose and my lips. I studied my goosebumps and the grey in my hair, which I can easily hide were I not to have my hair in a ponytail.

I wanted desperately to see who I used to be when I was eight years old. I wanted to see her again and think, “I look the same.”

Do I?

People tell me I look like my daughter but when I see her, I think to myself, “How?” She’s perfect and I am far from it.

I wonder if she will have busy eyebrows like mine. Or if she will suffer from shiny skin, too. Will she have pimples? And will her hair be so wild that people will call her, “cave woman”? That was my nickname as a kid. I hated it. I cried every night for a long time.

I wonder in a way that makes no sense. I don’t worry about her. I worry for me.

If I don’t see myself at age eight, how else will I muddle through the craziness of late. If I don’t find that fearless kid in the roller skates soon, I will be just like all the other mommies. If I don’t find my daughter in me instead of the vice versa I find so readily, I will be bummed.

And yet, tonight I am going to bed feeling she’s going to find her way.

And holy crap, there is a ton of spam on my site!

Wow! I mean, really. Look at it. Just LOOK.

It reminds me of an untamed garden where once stood neat and tidy rows of freesia. I had no idea I’d come back to this.

But here I am. I came back.

Glad to be here.

You must know that life has dealt me some unfair hands of late and that writing was the last thing on my mind. I was selfish. I was blue. Most of all, I was in a strange state of having to pick myself up while tending to an infant who needed me most.

My days were about my little baby combined with some ugly realities I had to face full on. Know this though…

…My child is great. She is thriving. And now I shall be great, too. Without her, I’d be nothing. She is the reason I have been resilient, dauntless and plucky because SHE is a resilient, dauntless and a plucky gal herself.  She is the reason I am me.

I’m sorry I gave up on my site temporarily. I suppose I could look at it as some sort of sabbatical but truth is, I effed up and forgot to say, “Be back soon!”

I hope you forgive me.

I hope you still read me.

I hope to see you around during this second phase of  life.

Here is a photo that kept me going during my hard days. I always told myself that were I to find myself on the other side, I would find a way to have a christmas tree with purple lights.

This is not a christmas tree but it doesn’t matter. You get the gist.

Thank you reading.

xo B